Twilightesque 3
by Grace Watson
Summary: Spin-off of Twilight. Similar plot, slightly more realistic. Just all-over, very familiar, but not quite the same.


"Hello and welcome back to school broncos! And if you're a freshman, then we welcome you, class of 2011! Let's make this another great school year. Let's try and keep all of our football stars alive, all our druggies in hiding and out of jail, and all of our horny bastards under control (we don't want mommies running through these halls!)" were the words of my utterly astonishing principal, Mr. Jacobs. Mr. Jacobs was most definitely unique; he had a way with us, the students. He always managed to turn horrible crises into comical jokes.

"Is it just me, or do the announcements get longer each year?" I said to the guy next to me. He turned, giving me a cold stare, but said nothing. "So have you heard anything about this class? I hear it's supposed to be easy." He managed to shrug his shoulders. In astonishment at his cold disposition, I turned back to face my computer.

After sitting through an utterly silent room for an hour, I rushed out and turned around the corner as soon as the bell had rung. That class had to be the most life-sucking class I'd ever been in. The most expression I got out of anyone was a shrug of the shoulders. The loudest sound was the hitting of fingers to the keys on the keyboards. Oh what a dull first period that will be, I thought.

I sighed and brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I tried to muddle through the overly crowded halls, being pushed back and forth between the incredibly tall football players towering over me. It's like I was a ball being passed back and forth, except that no one noticed. Suddenly, I looked ahead and saw a break in the crowd, I quickly shuffled between two gossiping girls, who glared at my "rudeness," and then realized that I was not the only one who noticed this advantageous situation. A tall, boy, about 6'2" or 6'3" with dark brown hair, turned his remarkably pale face to stare at me with brilliant blue eyes. Looking at him head-on, I noticed his flawless bone structure and prominently set chin, both of which seemed incredulously insignificant when I made my way up to his eyes. Beautiful, they were, but they were filled with shock and confusion. Taken aback, sure there must be some misunderstanding, I shot a quick, sheepish smile in his direction and turned to stare at the back of the head in front of me.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally made my way to E-hall and sat myself into the first empty seat I found in the room. I started to pull my notebook out of my book-bag, when a clearing of a throat diverted my attention to the seat behind me. I looked up, only to see those brilliant blue eyes fixated on the blank board. My face turned red as I turned back to my desk, completely embarrassed and unsure as to how I should react, but I was most definitely sure that Emily Post didn't cover awkwardness-101…or did she? My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice, "Lauren? I don't believe it, of course you had to be in my _math_ class; not my history class," he said with a hint of disappointment.

I let out a sigh with my returning smile, "Lawrence," I said with an affirmative nod. Before our calm casualties could continue, a shrieking girl with curly black hair pinned up into a ponytail and sealed with a red ribbon repeated my action, but with extreme enthusiasm and wide, flailing arms flying in his direction. I let out a laugh, "Good luck," I wished him. He peeled his eyes from the girl, just feet away, and gave me an appreciative expression before opening his arms and embracing the bouncy girl.

Inside, I let out a little chuckle of amusement and approval; with this "Alex"—the shrieking girl—occupying Lawrence's attention and being an utter nuisance, I would be able to focus on the 

mathematics, knowing that Lawrence's daily annoyance quota was fulfilled. Seeing my reaction and deciding to act on it, Mr. Brilliant Blue Eyes commented, "Friend of yours?" with a half-smile.

I turned my head, shocked we were speaking. "You could say that, I suppose." He raised an eyebrow at my vague reply, "We're friends, but not in the traditional sense of the world." He now raised the other eyebrow to be a full-out confused, but interested, face. I sighed, "We _do_ care about each other, but we love to annoy one another; we act more like siblings than friends."

"Ah…siblings? No more? I suspected a little…repression…or tension….in the air…has it always been this way, or is this a new thing?"

My eyes must have bugged at his bluntness. "Yes it has _always_ been this way, except that we have become somewhat closer and more caring—well under it all—but no it has never—and will never—be like _that_." The confusion left his face and was now replaced by remorse for ever asking. I did a double-back, shocked at my own harshness. "Oh, sorry, it's not you or the question that really bother me…it's just the frequency of the question…but still, I shouldn't have reacted like that, I'm sorry."

"It's fine; we all have our touchy subjects."

"And what are _your_ touchy subjects, now that you know mine?"

He let out a chuckle, "Wow, we sure are getting down to the root of things, aren't we? Wouldn't you rather start with the basics, like my _name_, for example?"

I could feel the blood rush to my face in humiliation at my own social awkwardness and stupidity. I wiped it from my face after a moment or two, and replaced it with a grin as I stuck out my hand, "Lauren…Masen, you?"

He chuckled, but accepted my hand and firmly shook it, "Ben," he paused twice as long as I had, "…Saxton, and it's a pleasure to finally be introduced."

Before _our_ casualties could prevail, the teacher interrupted us with an explanation about the class, what was to be expected, and what materials we would need. After what seemed like hours, the bell rang and I stood up, Ben rose shortly after, with a sigh. I turned to see if it was because of impatience, but it was more relief, completed with that same slight smile. "First days, huh?"

I allowed the annoyance to shine in my voice, though my eyes were humorous, "Yeah, always the same dull introduction, even for math—a class where no words are really necessary—well, except for final papers…"

"Those are the worst," he agreed, "not that I mind writing and literature, but I find it inappropriate in a mathematics class." I simply nodded my head, totally in agreement. "And there are all of those first impressions, as well," he said, waiting for my response.

"Oh yes, those," I said with a wrinkle of my nose.

"You don't like them?"

"Depends," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"On?"

"Who it is you're meeting and whether that first impression is good or bad."

"And what is your first impression of _me_?" He said, and I could hear the suppression of a smile in his voice.

I turned my face up to meet his smoldering eyes, sparkling with amusement. "Well, that's a hard one…I haven't really had time to process it," despite my silence, he seemed eager enough to wait for the answer, "But, so far, you seem like an…interesting person."

"Interesting," he seemed to mulling the word over in his head, "I'll take it," he said with an approving smile at my assessment. After a few more moments of standing there, staring into his sparkling eyes, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the classroom was starting to empty, he seemed to notice my wandering eyes, and spoke my exact thoughts, "I think we'd better get to class, we don't want to give our teachers a bad first impression of us." Although I knew that I probably shouldn't notice or care, I couldn't help but smile at his grouping. He turned to walk, but after a few steps he turned towards me, "Aren't you coming? Where's your next class?"

"A-hall, I have Spanish," I said, still unmoving.

"Same here," and with a simple gesture of his hand, I was moving towards him and then with him, and we seemed to be gliding, but at a slow pace, towards the other end of the school. "So what level are you; two or three?"

"Four actually," and I could see him raise an eyebrow, "I took one in middle school, and I could have taken AP this year, but I opted not to," and at that he raised the other eyebrow, forming an all-out curious expression.

"Perhaps another time," he spoke with closure, and I noticed that I was standing outside of my classroom.

"Sure," I said with a quick smile, and although it seemed awkward, I couldn't help but add, "Thanks," and a grateful smile afterwards.

"For?" he said, completely oblivious.

"Walking me to class."

"Lauren," and at that my heart sputtered; the way he pronounced it was so…so, indescribable, "I was going this way anyways, you know? And a 'thanks' really isn't necessary, hardly appropriate." At that I was speechless, I gave a quick, sheepish smile, and turned my back towards him, walking into the classroom, just as I felt the blood rush to my face. "Oh, I didn't mean—" but he was cut-off by the Spanish teacher's furious gaze. Even though the bell had yet to ring, everyone was already seated in their seats, full attention towards the board, copying down the immaculate number of phrases, ready to be translated. I quickly slid into the last available seat, giving no notice to the teacher's glare at me, or the swishing of her dress as she flew to the door, closing it. I quickly absorbed myself into the translations.

Some good that did me--how could I forget that Spanish was impossibly easy? I finished all of the assignments early and had the last twenty minutes to myself, and of course, with it being the first day, I had no other work to do, nothing to occupy my mind as the teacher began to give her firm, no-nonsense lecture, in Spanish, of course. As soon as she had issued a "Hola," my mind was already adrift, thinking of him. What a bizarre boy he was. Why would someone act that way after a first introduction? It was like he'd been sitting next to me for weeks and had finally gone stir-crazy at the silence, except that it hadn't been weeks, it had merely been moments. He baffled me to the most extreme, why would he walk with me; I was embarrassingly dull compared to his beauty. Yet, somehow, I was at ease around him, able to pour out all of my thoughts, not realizing it until after the words had left my lips. And what was all that nonsense about finally being introduced? Was he referring to the hallway this morning? But my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bell, and I when I rose from my seat, I was in a rushed daze, moving quickly but noticing nothing. This trance was interrupted by a hard thud and the dropping of my books. I didn't even bother to look up and see what it was I had collided with as I bent to pick up my dropped books. But as my hand reached for the physics book, I noticed another set of pale white fingers clutching the binding of my book. I looked up, and immediately regretted it, because when my eyes met the deep sea of blue, I lost any thought I had had in my head. But he seemed to have a different reaction, he was smiling intently back at me. Without saying a word—for my mind was too busy trying to remember how to breath—I rose and held out my hand for my book, but he ignored it and started walking. I sighed and started after him, but his pace was unusually slow, waiting for me to keep up. After we had walked almost the entire way to the new Science building, I could no longer stand the awkwardness, "Aren't you going to give me my book back?"

"Only when you're at your next class, where is that, by the way?"

"G 105, I have Physics with Macklin, why are you taking my book there, anyways?"

"I'm walking you to class, silly," he said, as if the answer should be obvious.

"Are you sure your class isn't just there and you're just keeping me company?"

"And if I were, would it be so wrong that I wanted your company?"

I paused, most people did not want my company, I was a nerd, and it was not socially accepted to be seen with me, more often than not.

"Besides, I _want_ to walk with you to your class—where ever that may be, though it does seem that we have the same next period." He stopped, waiting for some reaction out of my now frozen face.

"Oh, well er, thanks, for both," I said, nervously.

He chuckled, "No thanks needed, it really is my pleasure. Besides, I wanted to clear up that pre-Spanish incident."

"What about it? You were walking to the same hall as I and you merely spoke to me, being polite, and I took it as something else, you simply cleared that up--it really was my fault--and I'm sure it won't happen again."

"Because of better clarity?" he said, now he seemed to be the nervous one.

"Because it won't happen again. Look, let's just leave this be, alright?"

"I don't understand," he said innocently.

I sighed in frustration and stopped walking, "Hasn't this already been awkward enough for you? Why would you want to go through this again?"

"My life is always full of uncomfortable situations, and it will be, even without your presence. And yes, I would like to go through this again, with _you_." I was sure my mouth dropped because I heard him chuckle, "Now, let's you and I get to class, first impressions, you know?"

I smiled and as we reached the class, he opened the door and held it for me, "Nice," I approved as he handed me my book as I passed by him and his chivalrous act.

But once I stepped inside, my smile quickly dissolved as I saw a familiar face. "Lauren?" I heard Ben calling my name, as he gestured towards two seats in the back that he was standing next to, and I noticed that I must have stopped walking. I quickly snapped out of it—whatever, or where ever "it" was—and walked towards him. After I slid into my seat, Ben leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Everything all right?" in a concerned voice.

I could see that the teacher was scooting away from his desk and preparing to stand up to give us the same boring speech, so I leaned over and said, "Yeah, I'll explain later."

He nodded, but the concern never left his eyes. I was extremely thankful that the seats he'd chosen were located in the back of the room because I never had to face the familiar face of which I was so dreading. After what seemed like far too long, the bell sounded and Ben was standing beside my desk with an agitated look on his face, and I suddenly realized that I hadn't thought of an explanation for my odd behavior. "Lunch next?" he asked.

"Yep," I said blankly.

"Excellent," he said with a wide grin. His exuberant smile was extremely contagious, and once exposed to it, I couldn't help but mirror the look.

When we'd arrived at the cafeteria he stopped walking, "Do you buy or brown bag?"

I smiled at his terminology, "Brown bag."

"Me, too. Well that is great, it gives us more time—"

And I felt awful for having to cut him off, but I knew where he was taking the conversation, "Oh, I'm so sorry, but I just remembered that I promised some friends that I'd eat lunch with them," I said apologetically. Though it was true, I knew my friends wouldn't mind a last minute cancellation, especially when they found out that Ben was the reason. His face dropped immediately, catching the hidden implications, and the expression was heart-breaking, so I couldn't help but add, "But I'm sure they'll understand if I can't join them today, I just need to find them to cancel." His face lit up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree on Christmas Eve.

"Lauren?" I heard the familiar voice of one of my friends and turned my head to see her and everyone else behind her, standing there with baffled expressions on their faces.

"Oh hey guys, I was just looking for you," and though I couldn't quite decipher for sure, I thought I'd heard one of them mutter "I'll bet," but I ignored it and proceeded, "Uh guys, I was wondering if you guys would mind too terribly much if I wasn't able to sit with you today?"

It was Vanessa, the shortest, with long, black hair, and the only one with a relatively calm face, who answered, "Sure babe, I guess we'll catch ya later today, c'mon guys," as she and the rest—all five of them—began to walk towards the food line.

I turned back to Ben with a relieved expression on my face, but he merely looked amused. "I'll explain later," I answered his silent curiosity.

"Sure, sure, but now you get to meet _my_ friends, if that's alright with you?" he asked with a teasing smile. I returned a smile and simply nodded—more in confusion than agreement. As we walked over to the table farthest the food line, I could see a deserted table, with only four occupants; two boys and two girls. I hesitated, but Ben motioned for me to sit in the seat beside him, and I could not refuse his pleading expression. Once seated, I noticed all four pairs of eyes, intently inspecting me. "Lauren," he calmly said, informing everyone. Then he gestured towards the humongous, grizzly-looking, muscle-bulging mass opposite me, "Charles, my older brother," I smiled and Charles grinned hugely back at me. Next to Charles was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever met, Ben introduced her as Melissa, Charles' girlfriend. She had straight, naturally blond hair that was swept up into a ballerina's bun, and tied with a deep blue ribbon, that matched her eyes and contrasted beautifully with her tan skin, with features so, so, unmatchable, she _must_ be a cheerleader, or a dancer. When Ben said her name, she gave me a hesitant smile, one full of politeness, but not really genuine. Ben hardly seemed to notice as he moved on to the other boy, who sat on Charles' right, "Jasper, my best friend." Terms like "best friend" weren't really used by most guys, but then again, Ben didn't seem ordinary. Jasper gave me the same huge grin as Charles, and seemed to approve of me. Ben moved on to the girl on my left, "Catherine, my sister, and…" he hesitated, "…Jasper's girlfriend." My eyebrows raised a little, but Catherine hardly seemed to notice as she flashed a grin even huger than Charles' and Jasper's, and threw her arms around my neck.

"Oh," was all I could say in shock.

Ben gave Catherine a warning glance, and she muttered, "Sorry, I'm just _so_ happy to meet you! You don't know how long I've waited for this!"

At this I was sure confusion swept my face, and Lawrence spoke before I could part my lips to speak, "She just means that she's happy to see that Ben has met someone, it's been so long with him being surrounded only by us and now that he's found you—"

Ben intercepted, "Yes, now that I've found another addition to our 'clique,' which reminds me, your friends, they seem to be very interested in us."

"Huh?" I had totally forgotten all about them, being so absorbed into Ben's "clique." His eyes flickered across the cafeteria towards my would-be table. All five pairs of eyes seemed to be _too _interested at various random objects—tables, food, spots on the floor, etc.—and all faces seemed too 

blank, rather than absorbed into their usual lunch chatter. "Oh, them," and I realized that five new pairs of eyes were on me, "They're just…surprised that I'm sitting here, probably. I usually don't do these types of things."

Jasper chuckled, "As I said, Ben doesn't usually invite people to lunch with us." But that was the last thing I really remembered. The rest of their conversation was tuned out, I was much too preoccupied with Ben's intent eyes on me as I ate, seeming ready to gauge my reaction at any point, but he found nothing—other than nervousness and anxiousness.

After lunch, Ben walked by my side without a word, not even asking what class we were walking to. When we arrived at my class, I was surprised that he didn't stop outside the door, but proceeded forward. "_This_ is your class?"

He smiled, "Yes, and I assume it is yours as well, unless you're just walking me to class?"

"Nope, it's mine," I said with a smile and slid into the seat adjacent to his. "What class is your next one? I'm beginning to think something funny is going on in the scheduling office."

"AP Literature, you?"

"Honors Lit., wow, I guess you _do_ like writing."

He chuckled, but then his eyes grew a bit tight, "How was lunch?"

"You were there."

"Yes, but how was lunch for _you_?" he said, correcting his previous question.

"Oh, um…different, but good different."

He sighed in relief, and that I had no idea how to respond to, and luckily, I didn't have to because that's when Lawrence, Vanessa, and Charissa entered the room. "Guys? No way! I didn't know all of you had this class!"

"You missed lunch," Charissa suspiciously hinted.

"Sorry about that, but isn't it awesome that we're all going to have this class together, just like last year?"

"Yeah, yeah," they said in union.

"Oh, by the way, this is Ben." They all looked up, alert and curious, "Lawrence, Vanessa, Charissa," I said pointing each one out to Ben.

"It's splendid meeting you, and sorry I stole Lauren away from you at lunch. Perhaps you'll join us tomorrow?"

I raised my eyebrows, I didn't know he planned to invite me to lunch the next day, and he realized that he hadn't asked yet, so I quickly answered, "Or maybe Ben could join us?"

All of their eyes lit up, and Ben accepted, "I'd love to join you."

Just then, the teacher, Mrs. Bartlett, interrupted our conversation by clearing her throat and bumbling towards the front of the room. Quickly, all three settled into seats, preparing themselves for yet another monotonous lecture. After class, Ben walked me to the door where I found Lawrence waiting for me. "See ya later," I said to Ben, turning my attention towards Lawrence's curious face.

"So??" his face was full of curiosity—and impatience.

"Hmm?" I responded, still dazed.

"Oh don't play dumb, you know what I mean, it was all we could talk about during lunch, and we all have our own little theories, but what I'm more interested in is the truth. Do you plan on sharing?"

"There's really nothing to tell," I said all too innocently.

Lawrence rolled his eyes, "Sure, because you always bail on us to go eat lunch with those insanely gorgeous new kids. Spill."

"Really Lawr, you're thinking too much into this," I retorted casually.

"Laure, are you honestly going to try to keep this from me? You call me just to let me know that you're painting your toenails a new shade of silver, but this you think you can keep to yourself?"

I sighed, but my mind quickly jumped to an accusation, "I'll let you know when it gets less complicated."

Lawrence was quick to fire back, "I _did_ tell you when you asked."

I glared, "Maybe this isn't something you need to know."

"Fine."

I glared into space as we continued walking towards seventh period. The last time Lawr and I ended a conversation with "Fine," we didn't speak for an entire month. And that was over a television show. This was bigger. It was a huge chunk of my life that I was excluding him from, and, as much as he hated to—and never would—admit, it hurt him. He didn't know, but I had a special place in his heart as he held one in mine.

When we got to class, Lawrence and I grabbed two seats next to each other in the back but our silence continued. After class, I rose and walked out the door and as Lawr and I turned to go different ways, I mumbled a "good-bye" and he waved his hand…but the way in which we parted was cold and stiff…the way people who hardly know each other react. I sighed in disappointment. How had this happened? I readjusted my books as I headed to my locker to meet Charissa, with whom I usually carpooled.

I saw her standing by my locker with her phone flipped out, texting. "Hey," I said with a forced half-smile. My fakeness went undetected, as Charissa was absorbed into her text. "Anyone important?" I asked as I leaned over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the text.

She jerked the phone away, flipping it shut and sliding it into her back pocket. "No one in particular…" she trailed off as she began to fade into a daze.

"Really? Hmm…" I said as we turned and began to walk down the long hallway towards the parent pick-up line.

"What?" her voice suddenly became sharp and quick, and reaching a few octaves higher than normal.

I smiled, "Are you going to share?"

"Are you?"

"I asked first," I pointed out the obvious first-grade retort.

She sighed but began. "Well there's this guy," and I raised my eyebrows, causing her to giggle. "He's in my AP Chemistry class…and he's brown…and beyond hot."

I laughed, "Well at least he's smart, and brown—your parents will love that."

"I know, especially since my mom apparently wants me to start dating. When did that happen?"

"Last year, our parents would have beheaded us for even scraping the surface of the subject…and now, they're all for it."

She nodded, "Now it's your turn."

I gave a nervous smile, "Too bad it'll have to wait."

"Huh?" But her eyes followed my gaze—my father's red mercury marauder pulling into the pick-up line. "Oh…well you _will_ call me tonight?" She said it as if it was a demand, but she knew it was a question.

"Sure, sure," I said, trying to appease her, but not really meaning it. She caught on, but my father's car was approaching so she said nothing as we opened the doors and slid onto the charcoal leather seats.

"So how was school today?" my father asked in his usual monotone voice.

"Good," I answered as I clicked on my seat belt.

"Have any friends in your classes?"

"Yep," I replied.

Charissa did not hesitate in finishing my already completed sentence, "—and we met some new ones."

My father did not notice her tone and mumbled a "Good."

I let out a sigh of relief as my father pulled the car into the exit line. As we broached the school's traffic light, I saw a tall figure walking along the sidewalk with the rest of the walkers.

Charissa saw me looking and immediately recognized Mr. Brilliant Blue Eyes. "Hey, Lauren, isn't that Ben?"

"Ben?" Sure, now my father clued in.

"Uh, yeah, he's new; he's in our math class."

"And history, and Laure's physics," Charissa once again concluded. I knew that she was only acting this way because she was mad I hadn't told her about Ben and correctly assumed that I wasn't planning on sharing any further information.

"Oh, so he walks?"

I shrugged my shoulders—an attempt at casualty—"I guess so."

"Would you like me to offer him a ride?"

My eyes bugged and I think time froze—until Charissa spoke up, "That'd be really nice, him being new and all…maybe he'd even like to start carpooling with us? I don't think my parents would mind."

My dad already had his window rolled down, "Excuse me," and about ten heads turned to see this wind-burned cowboy with thick-rimmed glasses, a balding head, and a bushy mustache speak. "Benjamin--?"

Ben turned his head towards my father and edged the sidewalk near him. "Yes, sir?"

"It appears that you are walking home?"

"Yes, sir."

"Could we give you a ride?"

As Ben's eyes raked over the situation, I gave a humiliated smile and must have turned ten shades of red because as he gave his answer, he smiled. "I'd love that, sir."

My dad bumped the unlock button and Ben slid into the back, next to Charissa. "Hello again, Charissa, and thank you for offering me a ride," Ben smiled as his eyes focused on each one.

"It really is my pleasure," my father answered. "I'm Brent Masen, Lauren's father," my dad introduced himself with a nod of the head since his hands were otherwise employed by the steering wheel.

"Benjamin Saxton," Ben said as he also tipped his head.

"Lauren and I were just talking and we wondered if maybe you would like to carpool with us?" Charissa chimed in—was she really doing this?

"Oh, um, I'll have to ask my mom, but that would be lovely." _Lovely_—who was this guy?

My father pulled from the red light once the cop directing traffic had let all the buses go and gotten back into his decorated police cruiser and pulled away from the middle of the intersection. Charissa spent the drive to her house making small talk, dragging me into conversations. I could hear my voice reaching new octaves and occasionally shaking, but I hoped that Ben—or my father—wouldn't notice. Once we got to Charissa's house, I clicked the unlock button and bid her good-bye. As she shut her door, she smirked at me and then turned and walked towards her front door.

"Where do you live, Benjamin?" my father asked as he began to back out of the driveway.

"Just off of Dogwood Road—it's the house with the iron gate around it, surrounded by lots of trees."

"Okay, well you don't live too far from us, then. Did you just move here?"

"Yes, sir. The house has belonged to my parents for some years now, but always as a vacation home."

"You vacationed _here_?" I said in disbelief—who would vacation _here _of all places?

Ben turned to face me, "Yes, my mother grew up in the south and is rather fond of this particular location."

"Oh," was all I could manage to say, causing him to smile as if he had just won an argument.

"It was nice meeting you, Benjamin," my father said as he slowed the car to a stop once we had arrived in Ben's driveway—the iron gates had been open—revealing an incredibly long, curving driveway. My father stopped right in front of a huge white house with four columns supporting an overhanging roof that hung over a small, traditional wrap-around porch. The steps leading up to this mansion of a house were stone with delicate iron rails decorated with intricate designs of roses.

"Thank you again for the ride. I'll ask my mother this afternoon about the carpooling and will either confirm or deny tomorrow, if that's alright?"

"Sounds good," my father answered.

"See you tomorrow, Lauren," Ben said in a voice that was smooth and rich…far too sexy for my father's presence, but then I realized that that was Ben's normal voice—he couldn't help the appeal it brought to me or the effect it caused.

"See you," I smiled nervously as I replied.

As my father pulled out of the driveway and back onto the main road, he commented, "Benjamin seems nice. Is he friends with Lawrence?"

"Oh, um, I'm not sure."

"Hmm," was my entire father said. I took advantage of his pause to crank the radio up to full volume, helping to cause the silence. Whatever my father was thinking of Ben, I did not want to know. And I kept my fingers crossed that maybe his silence was due to concentration on something motorcycle-related—a girl could hope, couldn't she?


End file.
